


Dearly Beloved

by mirry_morii



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, Gaming, Introspection, M/M, Streamers - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11658492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirry_morii/pseuds/mirry_morii
Summary: He thinks about Victor Nikiforov on a daily basis. It’s never been a problem for him, of course, but he understands that some people might find this a bit… excessive. Okay, if he’s being really honest with himself, he does recognize that “thinking every day about Victor Nikiforov” does sometimes translate into “thinking too often about Victor Nikiforov”.(For some people.)***Katsuki Yuuri is a professional streamer with a bit of a problem: he can't seem to stop thinking about his fellow streamer and close friend, Victor Nikiforov.~ Inspired by AlexWSpark's Gaming AU.





	Dearly Beloved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexWSpark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexWSpark/gifts).
  * Inspired by [On Bedhead, Bullets, and Bargains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248203) by [AlexWSpark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexWSpark/pseuds/AlexWSpark). 



> Thank you all for taking the time to read my story. I appreciate it a lot ♡
> 
> To start with, I have been a fan of AlexWSpark's Gaming AU since _some_ time ago. It appeals to all of my favourite things, after all. You can take this short fic as a sort of companion to the newest instalment in her Gaming AU, [On Bedhead, Bullets and Bargains](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11248203/chapters/25142259). She's an amazing writer and an all-around wonderful friend, yet has made the grave mistake of mentioning me in the latest chapter, as the author of a #Victuuri fanfic. Of course, this is exactly what I'm delivering now. 
> 
> All you really have to know before you go off to read this is that both Yuuri and Victor are very popular Twitch streamers, and Yuuri has never done a face or name reveal. They have never seen each other, but can you tell they're crushing on each other? Because they are. HARD.
> 
> (In case you haven't done this yet, you should certainly read [Alex's Gaming AU](http://archiveofourown.org/series/752127) before this!!)

  

He thinks about Victor Nikiforov on a daily basis. It’s never been a problem for him, of course, but he understands that some people might find this a bit… excessive. Okay, if he’s being really honest with himself, he does recognize that “thinking every day about Victor Nikiforov” does sometimes translate into “thinking too often about Victor Nikiforov”.

( _For some people._ )

Take yesterday, for example. He was supposed to be streaming a play-through for _World of_ Goo, a favourite of his since before _Little Inferno_ came out and _Tomorrow Corporation_ finally started getting at least part of the attention they deserved. It should have made for a mellow evening of food-for-thought gameplay and playful banter with his fans. Instead, a new sub (@sabaix, if he remembers correctly) casually remarked that _the Sign Painter kind of sounds like Victor, doesn’t he?_

His hand jerked involuntarily at the mere thought. Naturally, effect follows cause, and thus the dainty bridge he had been working on suddenly collapsed. His precious Goo Balls fall to their death; all he can do is stare. It’s like the second time you play a game and then suddenly start seeing references that you can’t believe you haven't noticed before. It goes without saying that the quality of his structures went downhill from that point. ( _Damn, the Sign Painter certainly sounds like Victor._ )

Anyway, back to trying not to think about him.

Today is Sunday, warm and lazy and all around amazing. It’s one of the few free days that he allows himself, but he has to unwind sometimes; he pulls off a crazy amount of streaming hours even during the week. Too much work is not good for his health, after all.

What is good for his health, on the other hand, is the fact that Victor texts almost every day, just to ask how he’s feeling, complete with impressive sequences of heart-mouthed emoji that he never seems to repeat twice in a row.

Oh, we’re back to Victor. This didn’t go very well. Okay, let’s try this again.

Today is Sunday, warm and lazy and all around amazing.  Even though Sunday is the only day when he doesn’t stream, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to play games in his free time. He’s heard about professional streamers who, after streaming for ridiculously long periods of time, end up choosing to do something completely unrelated on their days off.  He could do something else, sure, but he has that copy of _Unravel_ that he still has to touch, there are a lot of streams that he’s missed on during the week, and he kind of wants to play a shooter later tonight? Not Competitive play, of course, but Phichit could be up for some quick games with no pressure, now that it’s raining outside. He loves his best friend to bits, they’re best friends for a reason, but he’s _so full of energy_ when it’s sunny outside. It’s as if he feeds off the damn thing.

“Come oooon,” Phichit playfully whined some weeks ago, “let’s go out this time.” The weather was positively stifling. A single stray ray of sunshine looked powerful enough to burn a Master Vampire to a crisp. “We could grab some lunch at the café next to the movie theatre, the one with that cute barista that you like?”

He sighed, making a show of squinting in order to properly look at the bright sun outside of his window. The sky had been a ridiculous shade of blue, the kind that you only see in highly-saturated pictures of some heavenly beaches somewhere in the Caribbean, palm trees high and mighty under the scorching sun. The trees in their city, on the other hand, looked like they would offer very poor protection against the assault of heat and light.

“If I wanted to become toast, Phichit, I’d play _I am Bread_ ,” he drily remarked to his pouting friend.  “And about that Korean barista? It’s _you_ that likes him, not me. For what it’s worth, I think he fancies you too.”

In the end, Phichit gets what Phichit wants. In this case, ‘the end’ was three hours of ruthless negotiation later, as a result of which he left the house armed with the only baseball cap he owned, a prominent pout, and his friend’s vow to pay for the next ten or so pizza deliveries.  He did make sure to order Hawaiian every time, rejoicing in Phichit’s disgusted look. _Why are we friends?_ Phichit would bemoan. _What have I done to deserve this?_

( _Pestered me until we actually became friends, that’s what you did._ )

He often wonders what good deed has he done to deserve someone like Phichit. He’s his best friend, his manager, his brother, he certainly does act like his mother at times. There is no chance that he would have been able to get to this point, were it not for him. Sure, the man obviously has his defects – he’s such a morning person, he hates pineapple on pizza – but hey, nobody’s perfect.

Now that he thinks about it, though, some people do come quite close to perfection. A certain Russian man immediately comes to mind, smiling in all of his silver-haired glory.

( _Victor doesn’t mind pineapple on pizza at all._ )

Anyways.

He lazily stretches, body groaning in delight as it finally gets some semblance of action. It doesn’t last long though, because he quickly curls back under the covers. Half-blind in the darkness of his room (courtesy of really thick drapes that he insisted on at least for his bedroom), he reaches for his phone. He’d wanted to listen to some podcasts before going to bed, yet fell asleep like a log as soon as his body touched the mattress. He taps open the screen, and is immediately assaulted by several notifications of everything that he’s missed.

( _Seriously, I hate time zones. I wonder if Victor’s still sleeping._ )

Ah, his Instagram is full of gems. Pictures of a silver-haired Russian beauty, pictures of poodles, pictures of both a beauty and a poodle ( _Beauty and the Poodle_ , that’s a good name for an indie game). Recordings of said Russian beauty’s last stream, who he has decided not to think about around ten minutes ago and _oh well, I’m doing a real shit job at this, aren’t I?_

To his defence, it’s _really_ hard to not think about Victor Nikiforov. Aside from the fact that he’s such a big name in all of the circles that he frequents – _Blizzard_ games… scratch that, _games in general_ , fundraisers, _Twitch_ , cosplaying,  _J!nx_ affiliate and the list fucking goes on for like forever – he is so… approachable. It’s so easy to be around him, all kind words and bright, open smile. It’s like he has a passive of making everyone feel at peace whenever they enter its AOE. He wears his heart on his sleeve, eyes bright and welcoming like open arms. Victor is a treasure so much more precious because of his genuine nature. When it comes to him, there’s no fine print. You always know what you sign up for.

You sign up for late-night attempts at role-playing games, for starters. One particular night – the first time they’ve tried _Fiasco_ , actually – Phichit stepped up as their trust-worthy teacher. They were all playing over _Discord_ , Phichit enthusiastically chirping all the way from Thailand, with Victor at home back in St. Petersburg. He imagines that the man had been probably lounging on a fluffy bed, beloved poodle draped over his lap.

“Okay guys, this isn’t called _Fiasco_ for nothing,” Phichit started with a disclaimer. Now, this is something you learn after years of playing Role-Playing games. Whenever the person who teaches you has to start with a disclaimer, you should know that the game you’ll be playing might not be necessarily _good_ in the sense that you’d expect, but certainly end up as a whole lot of fun.

“It’s inspired by movies like _A Simple Plan_ , _Fargo_ , the like. We’re all going to play as, and I quote, ordinary people with powerful ambitions and poor impulse control. I’m going to guide you through the rules as we play. What we have to do now is roll some dice and…”

 _Fiasco_ was a very straightforward game and, according to Phichit, the desired end result was, as one would expect, chaos. Half-way through setting up their characters, Victor excused himself to bring a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses. When asked why, he sheepishly answered:

“Well what do you mean why, it’s so I’m sure we’ll get a proper chaos at the end.”

“Oh my God that’s actually brilliant,” Phichit gushed. “Hang on a second I think I have some tequila somewhere in the house.”

Three hours, 5 glasses of vodka and 6 tequila shots later, their game was over. The town of _Robin Hood_ would never be the same, not after Victoria Cavanaugh (you guessed it, Victor’s character) crashed a flaming plane into the local library. Or maybe it was because of Blossom McGee (his character) and Alexandra Cavanaugh (Phichit, playing Victor…ia’s sister) founding _From Russia with Love_ , a lavish night club of the not-classy kind. Due to a series of very unfortunate events, this less-than-honest establishment somehow caused a war between two very dangerous drug cartels.  Both were named after Russian dishes, obviously, one of which was _Stroganoff_. He can’t, for the life of him, remember the other one.

Even now, two months after the fact, he cannot help but chuckle and wonder _how the fuck did we even come up with this._ He rolls on his back and stares up at the ceiling, grin firmly planted on his face because, with Victor Nikiforov, you also sign up for ridiculousness.

It happened on a rainy Sunday morning, much like this one. He had been utterly bored after a very uneventful week, and so he queued up for Quick Play on his smurf _Overwatch_ account. He likes lazy days and procrastination as much as the next guy, but a lack of _stuff happening_ for a long period of time makes him jittery, as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Needless to say, he was very distracted and completely missed the fact that Victor clicked to join his game _at the exact same moment when someone left from the enemy team_.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he swore aloud when he saw the line-up.

( _My eloquence knows no bounds._ )

That match could be easily considered the travesty of his Overwatch career. Victor, playing a very tame D.Va, mostly stuck to the rear of the enemy team and didn’t approach him too much. The man seemed to understand that _something_ was wrong with him, and so he sent an array of encouraging texts throughout the match. Each one of those sweet messages was a painful headshot to his pride, heart, and finally, dignity. How could he even _play_ when his silly mistake put Victor on the enemy team? And now, after doing all that, he can’t headshot the enemy sniper even if he’s basically standing in front of him and waving his hands?

“Ladies and gentlemen, meet my best friend. Professional streamer, he’s been playing _Overwatch_ since private beta,” laughed Phichit when he later saw the recording of his abysmal match. “Shame on your family, shame on your cow,” he continued for additional humour relief.

He had, understandably, felt very ashamed. So imagine his surprise when he found a sheepish D.Va, out of her Mech, standing at the doors of his spawn point. There was a second when his instincts took over and _I can kill her so easily and then maybe snowball and redeem myself with a well-placed ultimate and then OH MY GOD THAT’S VICTOR, ABORT._ It was indeed Victor, who promptly waved at him and then pointed his tiny bunny gun somewhere above his door. And then started shooting at the door frame.

_What even?_

_OH._

He drew up his bow and let an arrow fly in that same general direction, careful not to hit Victor. With a pitiful sound, an enemy sentry turret instantly died. Victor started jumping in delight, but all he was able to do was choke out a robotic “Understood” before scurrying back inside the spawn and changing his hero to Bastion. He sprayed all the sentry turrets around the door, and then turned to find Victor’s D.Va, now back in her Mech, munching on Doritos (or the _Overwatch_ equivalent of _Doritos_ ) and playing a console game on top of a rock. Shame overtook him again as he checked his phone and saw that Victor had indeed sent him a string of messages detailing the evil plot of his team’s Symmetra. The feeling was short-lived, because a wave of _oh my God, he came to warn me, that is absolutely precious HE IS ABSOLUTELY PRECIOUS,_ quickly drowned any shame or regret he might have felt.

( _I say ‘Oh my God’ a lot when I think about Victor._ )

He rolls around again, fishing his phone from under the covers. As he keeps scrolling down his news feed, he realises that there’s not much happening in the world today. There’s the usual outrage caused by something a politician said, blurry shots of some drunken pop star dancing on tables, a popular album that just came out and... Oh, this seems interesting. An indie game developer recently paired up with a hardware manufacturer in order to work on some sort of “groundbreaking VR FPS”. Huh. _Tokyo 2911._ He’ll keep that in mind.

It’s not long before he reaches the end of his news feed. Nevertheless, he keeps on lazily scrolling down as if that would refresh his life to tomorrow’s news. He doesn’t really want to skip today, not really, but he’s _utterly bored_ and entirely too lazy to do something about it.

He suddenly remembers Victor’s voice, effervescent and fresh - _Wouldn’t it be amazing to have an MMORPG where you could hug someone else’s avatar? Or dunno, smooch them or something?_ He smiles, chest tight from a chuckle that he doesn’t want to let out. It would be a terrible idea to find an MMO like that; he would never be able to do anything as long as Victor was in his vicinity. Have the possibility of hugging him, or… or touching him? God forbid even thinking about… kissing… him?

He presses the nearest pillow onto his face (it’s the shape of the _Hearthstone_ logo and there might be a bit of irony, because it’s been ages since he played the game) until the urge to squeal dies out. It seems to be taking a while, and so he has to briefly remove it in order to not suffocate. It would be a terrible, and incredibly dumb way to die.

( _Jesus Christ, just imagine the headlines. Top streamer found dead in his bed. Cause: Death by Pillow. Or would it be Death by Crush?_ )

He’s saved by a bell or, more specifically, his phone’s ringtone. After promptly throwing away the pillow (it lands somewhere at the foot of the bed, he’ll grab it later anyway), he answers the phone. His chest _squeezes_ in the most delicious way possible, warmth rising up to his cheeks and fingers clutching the phone. He has to swallow a breathless gasp, toes curling because the voice on the other end of the phone is _divine_. And it’s the voice he has been thinking of all day.

“Hey you,” Victor greets him sleepily.

“H-hi,” he manages to get out. He wonders again, _what has he done to deserve this?_ Having this man call him every morning is both a blessing and a curse. “How did you sleep?”

There’s a rustle of sheets on the other side of the line, some incoherent mumbles in quiet Russian, quickly follow by what sounds to be Makkachin whining. Victor yawns, a sound that almost makes him choke again. He imagines the smooth expanse of pale skin, stretched in an arch, body so sculpted he could easily pull off a Gerald of Rivia cosplay without even trying too hard. Silver hair spilling on a pillow, or perhaps Makkachin’s fur. His mind is a carbon copy of the _El Dorado_ gif of “Both? Both is good.”

“I slept really well. I dreamt we were trapped in a game, the two of us, and you were this…” he stops for another yawn and more rustling. “Sorry ‘bout that. You were this… key to getting us all out. Makkachin was there too, not sure how, but…”

The poodle gives out an excited bark as soon as she hears her name. It’s quickly followed by more rustling, chuckles that feel like very well-placed punches to his self-control, and then a breathless laugh. He’s scrambling for some semblance of dignity when he hears it, there, in the background. A piano, softly playing, perfectly accompanied by the orchestra. He chokes because of an entirely different reason this time, his heart squeezes and then explodes in his chest, painting childhood memories and careless delight all over his ribs.

“Mmm? Are you okay?” Victor asks, a bit more awake, a bit worried too. He has to resist the impulse of biting his nails, toes curling again because _what has he done to deserve this?_

“I… is that _Dearly Beloved_?” he’s not proud of his trembling voice. “I… You never told me you played the game. I-it’s my favourite game, I… I love it. I play it every year.”

There’s static for a bit, and he can clearly hear the sound of strings joining up the piano again. _It’s on repeat_ , he realizes, and he’s sure his heart is going to explode once more. Breathing is, suddenly, such a hard thing to do. _How do people do this all the time?_

“Oh, yeah, I… I know.” There’s a bit of shuffling around. The sound of childhood and laughter is like waves, lapping at the shore. “I played it after I heard you mention it on stream. We weren’t formally acquainted then, but…” Victor stops, and he can hear more shuffling. The piano is even closer now. “Well, I… I really liked it, and the soundtrack is beautiful, especially this. Kept the main menu open all day, just to hear this song play. I… sometimes put it on before I go to sleep.”

He tastes blood, and that’s when he realizes that he’s been biting his lip all throughout Victor’s monologue. He doesn’t know what to say, _there’s nothing sufficient to say_.

“It’s… it’s my favourite piece.”

Silence settles between them, yet it’s not alone this time. _Dearly Beloved_ is a red string wrapped around himself, one of the few things holding all of his pieces together; it’s a wonder it hasn’t lost itself when searching for Victor. He can almost feel it, the thread wrapped around Victor’s little finger. It’s fragile, but _there_. They are _there_.

“You know,” the other begins and he knows that they both _understand._ “It’s a phrase. They use it to address people at weddings? _Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…_ ”

He laughs because he must, because what else can he do? He’s _home_.

“That sort of sounds like a marriage proposal, doesn’t it?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the lovely [Sabaix](https://sabaix.tumblr.com/). She's my beta, enabler, and voice of reason all in one pretty package. Go say hi to her, or come visit my tumblr [here](https://flower-crowns-and-skates.tumblr.com/) and ask me about rec lists or reviews, or just... scream with me about Yuri!!! on Ice? That's a perfectly good reason to scream at anyone, really.
> 
> A scene in this fic was inspired by [this post right here](http://sparemoon.tumblr.com/post/162797550818/our-symmetra-was-being-a-jerk-in-this-one-skirmish). Go check it out, it's absolutely hilarious. 
> 
> Everything else was inspired by the aforementioned Gaming AU and, naturally, I don't actually own Yuri!!! on Ice, or any of its characters. If you're confused regarding any of the games, expressions or words that I used, I recommend you check AlexWSpark's [end notes on her first part of the series](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10546890/chapters/25480989), where she gives a pretty in-depth explanation of all the word choices and what not. If you're still confused after that, drop me a comment here, an ask on [tumblr](https://flower-crowns-and-skates.tumblr.com/), whatever works for you.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Cheers! ~ (*´ ♡ `*) ~


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